


A Picture's Worth

by Valeada



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Artist Gabriel, College Student Sam, From Sex to Love, Gabriel Has a Dog, Human Gabriel, M/M, Masturbation, Model Sam, Nude Modeling, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeada/pseuds/Valeada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is one of the most successful modern painters residing in the United States, with people lining up outside of auction houses for the chance to purchase his latest works. Loki, however, is on an unexplained, mysterious hiatus that has the art world on its toes, all because Loki is Gabriel Novak, and Gabriel Novak just can’t find his damn inspiration. When he least expects it that inspiration comes along in the form of Sam Winchester, a gorgeous college student who models for a community center’s art class. Soon enough, both of them are set on a whirlwind path that creates a mess even Jackson Pollock would be proud of.<br/>On Indefinite Hiatus</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally meant to be written as a 2016 Sabriel Big Bang, but I didn't get it done in time, so it's being published as a multi-chapter fic instead! The rating is for a couple chapters down the road, as are some of the tags. My lovely beta is Why-Not-Sabriel, and all remaining mistakes are my own.

The internet was such a scary place. Gabriel knew that first hand. Some of the things he’d seen, well, they certainly didn’t _lower_  the imaginary bill of the therapy he probably needed, that was certain. 4chan was the place where everything good in the world went to die. These days, however, the artist had an entirely different reason to be wary of the internet.  These days it was full of rumours about why Gabriel Novak, better known in the art world as “Loki”, hadn’t produced any new paintings for two years. Some said he was working on a masterpiece that would put everything else he’d produced so far to shame. Some said he had gotten caught up in the seedy underbelly of the art world, and someone needed to pull him out of it before he ended up addicted to crack and paint thinner. Gabriel’s favourite rumour was that he was filling his time by sneaking into brothels at night and secretly painting the hookers. Fuck, he wished his life was that damn interesting. So what was Gabriel actually doing?

 

Well, currently? Currently he was baking cookies in his underwear, and avoiding calls from his publicist.

 

It’s not that he disliked Bela, not in the slightest. Alright, ok, fine, maybe in the slightest. That bitch was pushy. Still, he was generally more than willing to put up with it in exchange for working with one of the best in the business. But right now he didn’t think he could handle one more fucking call asking him when the hell he was going to paint something new. He got why she kept calling, he really did. Gabriel was her biggest client, she just wanted to make her commission. His paintings never sold for less than a hundred grand, so even selling one of them was enough to put a decent chunk of money in her pocket. So Gabriel understood why she was such a pain in the ass. That didn’t make it any less annoying.

 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so much of a problem if he actually had an answer for her. Why couldn’t he make anything new? Not a damn clue. He just couldn’t seem to conjure up anything. He’d sit in front of a canvas all day, and… nothing. Nothing. Fucking _nothing_! Sometimes he would force himself to put something, anything on the canvas, painting out random shapes, whatever came into his head. Even then nothing came together. He just ended up with another wasted canvas, and more irritation with himself.

 

It was pointless anyway, the world probably just wanted him to paint another one of his angels. Before he’d stopped (Paused! Paused, fucking damn it he’d only paused) painting, he’d created a series of paintings of angels, all doing things they shouldn’t. Angels turning their back on the starving in favour of going to casinos. Angels tipping the scales of justice to convict an innocent man. Angels leading refugees towards the people they were running away from under the guise of leading them to safety. But after the last one he’d painted… nothing. Nothing. Fucking nothing. It was like someone had taken his brain and squeezed it through a strainer that took out all of his creativity, then put the new, boring brain back in his head and chucked the creativity in the damn trash. Sometimes it felt like he was opening his mouth and trying to scream, but his vocal chords were gone. Christ, nope, he was never saying that out loud, Bela would never let him hear the end of it. He was 32 now, too damn old for flouncy shit like this.

 

Gabriel cursed as a shrill beeping rang out from his kitchen and he burst into a run, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood floors of his apartment.

 

“Shit!” He yelped when he caught sight of the smoke seeping out of his oven, grabbing a pair of oven mitts and yanking the door open. A large cloud of smoke crashed into him, tearing a barking cough out of his chest. Trying to avoid breathing in too much of the smoke, he yanked the tray of cookies out of the oven and set them down on the stove top. Well, the tray of what used to be cookies.

 

“Shit.” Gabriel groaned again, closing the oven and throwing the oven mitts down on the floor. He couldn’t even bake cookies anymore, apparently. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck.

 

He pushed the kitchen window to let out some of the smoke while reaching for a dish towel. As soon as the window was open he covered his mouth with the crook of his arm, waving the towel beneath the smoke detector to get the incessant fucking beeping to stop. It took a few minutes of flailing, but eventually the air cleared, and the beeping faded away.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker.” Gabriel sighed, flopping back against the counter, eyeing the tray of burnt cookies with a grimace. He let his eyes slip shut, his head tipping back in exhaustion.

 

Gabriel felt a wet nose nudge at his leg and looked down, raising an eyebrow at the corgi looking up at him. Fenrir tipped his head to the side, looking up at his master with a hopeful expression, his tail wagging back and forth in excitement already. Gabriel sighed again, running a hand tiredly over his face.

 

“Yeah yeah, I know. Walk time.” He conceded, giving the dog a quick pat before heading off to his bedroom to put some clothes on. Couldn’t even get a moment’s rest, apparently. He should have known better. But who knew, maybe some fresh air would do him some good.

 

\- - - - -

 

The cool evening air nipped at Gabriel’s skin as he wound through the familiar streets of Palo Alto. Fenrir didn’t seem to be affected, though, and he bounced along happily in front of Gabriel, sniffing at the ankles of everyone who passed them. He did his best to get Fenrir out to Rinconada Park at least once a week, but it had been unusually rainy recently so it had been awhile since the two of them had been able to go together. The pavement was still wet, and the light of the setting sun gleamed in the puddles, shimmering through the raindrops that still clung to the leaves of the trees that lined the streets.  God he loved this town, he really needed to make sure he started going out more. Locking himself up in his apartment clearly wasn’t helping him find his muse.

 

Rinconada Park was right next to an elementary school, which was probably why Fenrir liked it so much. He always got crazy amounts of attention from all the kids, and the closer they got to the park the more excited the little dork started to get, tugging his owner forward by the leash. Gabriel chuckled, barely managing to keep up with his hyperactive corgi. He only hoped he had that much energy when he was fifty in human years.

 

The cold weather meant that the park wasn’t very full, just a few children running around, and a pair of teenagers messing around with one of the swingsets. Even so, it only took a few minutes for a couple of children to run up to them, their eyes darting back and forth between Gabriel and Fenrir.

 

“Uh, mister?” One of them asked hesitantly, a girl with lopsided pigtails and a smudge of dirt on her nose. She didn’t need to finish her question, Gabriel knew what she wanted.

 

“Yeah, sure, go ahead and pet him. Fenrir’s friendly, aren’t you bud?” Gabriel smiled down at the corgi, who wagged his stubby tail in reply.  

 

The girl’s eyes darted down to the dog, holding out her hand. Fenrir didn’t need more encouragement than that, he scrambled forward, licking at the girl’s fingers and making the kids all squeal with laughter. Gabriel watched his dog fondly, leaning against a flyer-covered telephone pole.

 

He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, reaching for it without really thinking.

 

“Hello?” He said, his voice light and chipper.

 

“Oh, so now you choose to pick up the phone, do you?” Bela’s voice cut through the cheerful atmosphere, and Gabriel’s smile rapidly melted away.  
  
“What are you, my publicist or my mother?” Gabriel snapped, keeping one eye on the kids and Fenrir.  
  
“Now that’s a job I would never sign on for.” Bela chuckled. “There’s not enough money in the world to cover the salary I would charge for that.”

 

“If you were a mother you’d eat your young.” Gabriel teased, kneeling down to take Fenrir off of his leash. Fenrir gave a happy little yap, dashing off towards the field with the kids chasing after him. Gabriel watched him go, smiling softly.

 

“Glad to know you think so highly of me.” Bela scoffed on the other end of the line, but Gabriel could hear the smile in her voice.

 

“Awe Bels, you know I love you. Still, I doubt you’d care whether or not I thought you were the scum of the earth as long as I keep paying you.” Gabriel replied, scanning his eyes over the park. He didn’t see any parents around, maybe the group of kids had been allowed to go out on their own.

 

“Speaking of.” Bela continued. “When are you going to man up and paint something new so that I can sell some more Loki pieces, Gabriel?”

 

“As soon as you get off my back about it.” Gabriel snapped. He hoped the kids’ parents had let them out on their own. Most kids these days were too coddled. At least these ones were allowed to go to the damn park without their parents harping on them. “You know I can’t paint when you pressure me into it, and anything I’d come up with when you do would be crap.”

 

“At this point I wouldn’t care if you gave me a doodle on the back of a restaurant napkin, as long as you made it and it’s made out of paint.” Bela sighed. “How long exactly do you think I can keep running gallery shows with old pieces we haven’t sold yet? Royalties on your copyright when people use your pictures in their publications aren’t going to keep you going. Or me, for that matter.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Gabriel said dismissively with a wave of his hand. He caught sight of a bench beside him and sank down onto it.  
  
“Gabriel, I’m serious.” Bela said, her voice slipping into a more business-like tone. “The money is running out.”

 

“Then find a way to make some more. Hell, at this point you can put me on a fucking talk show if you want, I don’t care.”  
  
“Or.” Bela snapped. “You can stop acting like a child and actually paint something for me to sell.”

 

“What, you think I’m _choosing_  not to paint?” Gabriel scoffed incredulously. He couldn’t believe her sometimes.

 

“Well you’re certainly not trying as hard as you could be. You’re 32, Gabriel, it’s time to grow up.”

 

“I’m trying to paint, alright?” Gabriel growled. One of the kids shrieked and Gabriel looked up, watching them fall to the ground. He half stood up, unsure of whether to go over and make sure that he was alright. But in less than a second Fenrir had jumped on the kid, licking his face. The boy’s laughter carried across the park and Gabriel deflated a bit, sitting back down.  “I just don’t have any ideas. I can’t paint anything. My mind’s just… empty.”

 

“Well, then fill it.” Bela replied impatiently. “We have an arrangement, Gabriel. You come up with the art, I find the buyers. If you’re not filling your end of the bargain than you can’t expect me to work on mine. I have other clients that could use my attention.”

 

“Oh, so what, I paint something new or you’re going to drop me, is that it?” Gabriel hissed. How dare she do this to him? Without him, Bela Talbot would be no one. At least half of those other _clients_  wouldn’t have even have talked to her if she hadn’t sold his work first.

 

“Yes.” Bela said bluntly. “I represent artists, not washed up friends going through some sort of mid-life crisis.”

 

“I’m 32, not 45.” Gabriel grumbled, kicking at the ground.

 

“So unless I see you making an actual effort,” Bela continued, ignoring Gabriel. “Then yes, I’ll be forced to end our partnership. No hard feelings.”

 

“No hard feelings my ass.”  
  
“I’d have told you this earlier if you hadn’t been avoiding my calls…” Bela pointed out. Gabriel let out a huff of annoyance.

 

“I wasn’t avoiding you, I was busy.”

 

“Busy with what, exactly?” She asked, and Gabriel could practically hear her raising an eyebrow at him.

 

“Uh…” Gabriel stalled. “Baking?” He said hopefully. He should send her that last batch of cookies. Except no, he didn’t hate her _that_ much. No one deserved that fate.

 

The kids were walking back toward him now, one of them carrying Fenrir in his arms. Gabriel stood up off the bench, stretching and giving one last glance around the park. A flyer on the telephone pole he’d leaned against earlier caught his eye and Gabriel walked over to it, getting a closer look. Apparently the community center down the block was offering free painting classes on Thursday nights. Lucky shits, doing art without any actual responsibility to make something good.

 

“Right, baking.” Bela continued with a note of amusement. “Well if you want me to continue to work for you then you had better get yourself busy with some art.”

 

“Art, huh?” Gabriel hummed, eyes flashing with mischief as they remained locked on the flyer. “Any art?”

 

“Well paintings are preferred, obviously. But if you’d rather try something else…”

 

“No, no painting’ll work.” Gabriel said, a grin slowly spreading over his face as he tore one of the strips of paper off the bottom of the flyer, tucking the contact information in his pocket.

 

“Gabriel, I know that tone of voice. Please do your best to be as serious about this as possible.” Bela said hesitantly, a note of worry in her voice.

 

“Oh come on Bels, you know me. I’m always serious.” Gabriel chastised her. Well, if Bela wanted him to paint, he could definitely oblige. Maybe not the way she wanted, but that was her own damn fault for not being specific enough.

 

The kids came up in front of him, dismay twisting on the face of the boy carrying Fenrir.

 

“Hey, hey mister!” He said, trying to get Gabriel’s attention.

 

“Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later. And don’t you worry, tomorrow night I’ll paint you something wonderful.” Gabriel assured her. God, they were probably painting mountains or bowls of fruit or something with crayola paints. This was going to be hilarious. He could already picture Bela’s face when he showed her whatever crap was going to come out of Thursday night.

 

“Gabriel, I-”

 

He didn’t let her finish the thought, ending the call and slipping his phone back in his pocket.

 

“What’s up, kiddo? Is everything ok?” He asked, squatting down until he was eye level with the boy.

 

“Your dog.” He said, holding out Fenrir for Gabriel to take. “He pooped.”

 

Fenrir looked up at Gabriel with wide eyes, his tail wagging happily and his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

  
“God, you’re lucky you’re cute.” Gabriel sighed, shaking his head as he took Fenrir back from the boy, hooking the dog back on his leash. “Come on kid, show me where.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two! I should hopefully keep up this schedule of posting every Tuesday for you all. My lovely Beta, Why-Not-Sabriel, is out of town at the moment, so all mistakes in this chapter are my own.

Digging around on the community center’s website had let him know that the art class started at 5:00, so at five minutes before the hour he walzed into the room, a travel case of his favourite brushes tucked under his arm. It hadn’t been clear whether or not he needed to bring his own paints, but he decided that messing with Bela wasn’t worth wasting good oil paints, so he’d left them at home.  Worst case scenario he’d borrow someone else’s paint. It wasn’t like he was actually here to learn anyway. Even so, he had always been a little finicky about his paintbrushes. Other people's’ brushes always felt awkward in his hands, and if he had to spend an entire class painting with some cheap, lead-filled, dollar store paint brushes he might scream.

 

The room was set up exactly the way he would have expected it to be,  with three rows of twenty or so easels and chairs arranged in a semicircle around an area at the front of the class. The space the chairs looked out on was at the front of the room with what looked a ratty old chaise lounge, its red velvet upholstery patched and faded. A strange metal pole leaned against the chaise, with a wonky hook at the end. Gabriel made his way towards the row of easels closest to the back of the room, setting his things down by a random chair. Maybe they were going to be painting the chaise? Fuck if he knew. The lighting in here wasn’t all that great either, and he was just itching to fix it, but he reeled himself in.

 

There were already a handful of people there, clustered toward the front of the room and all chattering away with each other. Figures, Gabriel decided, of course everyone was already buddy-buddy. Whatever, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t here to make friends. One of the people, a plump middle aged woman with dyed orange hair gave him a friendly wave, and Gabriel gave her a curt nod before turning his attention towards his stuff again.

 

He took one of his paint brushes, a fan brush, out of his bag, examining it for a moment to make sure it had survived the journey here. Maybe this had been a mistake. He didn’t belong here, not in this dark room with a ratty chaise and a bunch of seniors and housewives. He was a fucking artist, and whatever this shit was, it wasn’t art. But he was here now, and his phone in his pocket felt like it weighed twenty pounds, a silent reminder of Bela’s threat. He’d get through this, and maybe come out of it with some shit he could shove off onto Bela to make her happy.

 

The door swung open with a creak of its hinges, drawing Gabriel’s eyes up to it, and he watched another woman walk into the room, round and cheerful with snow white hair and smile lines a mile deep carved into her cheeks.

 

“Good evening class!” She chirped with the enthusiasm of a kindergarten teacher, her eyes scanning the room before coming to rest on Gabriel. “It seems like we’ve got some new faces with us today.”

 

The people at the front of the room swivelled around in their chairs to look at him, and suddenly Gabriel felt twelve years old and not quite in control of his limbs. The orange-haired  woman who had waved at him before waved again, and Gabriel returned a forced smile.

 

“Why don’t you come closer, young man? It doesn’t look like we’re going to be a big group today, and it’ll be rude to the model if we’re all sitting miles away from him.” She laughed, beckoning him forward with a wave of her hand.

 

Young man? How old did this lady think he was? And Model? This class could actually afford to hire a model? Now that was surprising. Gabriel picked up the one paintbrush he’d unpacked so far and the bag filled with the rest of them, shuffling forward until he found himself a seat in the second row, off to the side.   
  
“Now, why don’t you tell all of us your name?” She asked, smiling patiently at Gabriel. Jesus, did this woman ever stop fucking smiling? She reminded him of those annoying older relatives who always  wanted to pinch the cheeks of the kids and hug them so tightly it almost hurt. He’d been hoping to avoid introductions, he didn’t really want anyone knowing who he was. But as long as he didn’t introduce himself as Loki he’d probably be fine, “Gabriel Novak” would be far less recognizable than Loki.

 

The door squeaked open again, saving him from answering the question as a man ran into the room.

 

“Shoot, Edith, I’m so sorry I’m late.” The man panted. The fucking hot man. Jesus Christ on a stick. Gabriel hoped he wasn’t actually staring, but really, who could blame him if he was? The kid had on a large coat, a scarf, a beanie, and was out of breath. His hair was slightly messy, his nose and cheeks a little flushed from the cold and the fact that he’d clearly been running. Even dishevelled his guy was one of the hottest people Gabriel had ever seen, and fuck if he didn’t want to mess him up even more.

 

Beanie Kid (oh god no, if he wasn’t careful he was going to start calling the guy Beanie Baby, fuck his life) stumbled further into the room, quickly shedding his layers.

 

“It’s fine Sam, just get ready and we’ll get started.” The old woman, Edith, assured him. Sam gave her a grateful smile that totally didn’t pierce Gabriel straight through the heart (Dimples! He had dimples, damn it!), before heading to the back of the room and ducking behind a partition that had been set up there.

 

“Now, you were saying?”

 

It took a moment for Gabriel to realise that Edith was talking to him, and Gabriel snapped his head back to face the front again, a light blush of embarrassment dusting his cheeks.

 

“I, uh…” He stammered. “Gabriel. Gabriel Novak.”

 

“Well, Gabriel Novak, glad to have you with us! Just paint at your own pace, there’s paints and a palette in a box under your easel. I see you brought your own brushes.” Edith said, and Gabriel glanced down at the fan brush still in his hand.

 

“Oh, yes.” Gabriel nodded, coming back to himself a little more and setting the brush down on the edge of the easel, getting to work on unpacking the rest.

 

“Wonderful!” Edith clapped, turning her attention back to the rest of the class and beginning to babble something about what they’d be doing today.

 

Gabriel tuned her out, trying instead to focus on laying out each individual paintbrush along the edge of the easel. Once they’d been organized by size and type he pulled up the box that Edith had talked about, continuing to ignore her as she blabbed away. Huh, these paints weren’t half bad. He liked working with oils a little more than acrylics, but they were actual acrylics rather than shitty high school tempera. Hopefully they’d blend nicely at least. It looked like the canvasses were bought pre-primed, which was fine, he could get to work faster at the very least.

 

“Oh, Sam, perfect.”

 

Gabriel’s head snapped up again, scanning the room to try and see what Edith was talking about.

 

“Just on the chaise there?” Gabriel heard from behind him. He spun around, catching sight of Sam in a… was that a robe? What was going on?

 

“Yes please. Oh, and if you could get the skylight too that would be wonderful. You know I can’t reach it.” Edith added, and Sam nodded.

 

“Of course.” He replied with another one of those smiles. He brushed past Gabriel and headed to the front of the room, grabbing the pole by the chaise and using it to pop open a wood skylight above the chaise that Gabriel hadn’t noticed before. The light from the setting sun streamed in through the open skylight, bathing the chaise in hues of gold and red. Sam set down the pole behind the chaise before sitting down on the edge, untying the sash on the robe he was wearing, shrugging it off.

 

Holy fucking shit, Sam was naked.

 

Gabriel barely managed to keep his mouth shut as the robe fell to the floor, revealing Sam’s bare torso. Alright, so no, not entirely naked, but the pair of flesh-coloured shorts that Sam was wearing were tiny enough that he might as well be. Jesus.

 

“Alright class, let’s begin.” Gabriel heard Edith say, breaking him out of his dangerous train of thought. “As usual, Sam will pose for us and I want you all to paint what you see. Remember art is as much about how you feel as what you see, so you don’t have to aim for photorealism. Everything is the right answer.”

 

Right, right, art. As cheesy and optimistic as what Edith was saying was, at least it helped remind him of where he was. This was an art class. He wasn’t here to ogle Sam, he was here to paint. Or maybe do both at the same time. Who said he couldn’t multitask?

 

Sam laid back on the chaise, keeping himself propped up partway using the arm of the sofa. Gabriel watched, riveted, as Sam ran his hands through his hair, letting it fall freely behind him. The light from the skylight shone down on him, washing him in a bath of colour that made his skin look soft as silk while throwing the gorgeous, chiseled muscles of Sam’s arms and torso into sharp relief. His long legs stretched out down the length of the chaise, and Gabriel watched the muscles ripple beneath Sam’s skin while Sam turned slightly onto his side, facing the class, his hands resting on his stomach.

 

He was a vision of such beauty that it almost took Gabriel’s breath away.

 

Gabriel moved almost automatically, rifling through the basket of paints until he found the colours he wanted, smearing out a world of colour onto his palette. It didn’t matter that Edith was still talking, her hands gesturing towards various parts of Sam to try and explain some stupid point to the rest of the group. The rest of the room didn’t matter. All that mattered was Sam lying a few yards in front of him, the brushes in his hands, and getting the glory in front of him onto the canvas.

 

Gabriel worked as though in a frenzy, tuning out everything around him. It had been so long since he’d been this focused on a piece of work, but he sunk back into it as though it had only been this morning. His fingers hummed with energy as his paintbrush caressed the canvas, his eyes darting back and forth between Sam’s form and the image he was creating. Though Sam had let his eyes slip shut a few minutes after he’d laid down Gabriel painted them open, Sam’s eyes piercing and tender on the canvas. His fingers were almost dancing, moving with a rhythm that matched his breathing, while Gabriel’s own chest rose and fell in time with Sam’s. This, this was why he painted. This moment, capturing something like this on a canvas, something that _needed_ to be preserved. The feeling of moving almost automatically. When he painted like this his mind moved too quickly for him to consciously register any concrete thoughts, everything was instinctual. No one else in the room mattered. No one but him and Sam and the feeling of the canvas beneath his brush.

 

It took three attempts for Edith to snap him out of his trance.

 

“Mr Novak!”

 

Gabriel felt a hand settle on his shoulder and he snapped up, realising that he was panting as his thoughts came back down to earth.

 

“What is it?” He asked, glancing up at Edith, whose eyes were fixed curiously on his painting.

 

“The class is over, dear.” She murmured without tearing her eyes away from his canvas.

 

“Oh.” Gabriel said simply. She was right, everyone else had stood up and was packing up their things, chattering away amongst each other again. “Right. Sorry.”

 

“No, no it’s absolutely fine.” Edith assured him, shaking herself out of whatever train of thought she’d been on and smiling down at him. “Do you think you’ll be back next week?”

 

Gabriel chanced a quick glance back at Sam, who had sat up and was putting his robe back on.

 

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be back.” He nodded.

 

“Wonderful!” Edith beamed, patting him tenderly on the shoulder. “There’s a sink in the back, feel free to wash your brushes out there.”

 

Gabriel nodded numbly, glancing back at his painting. It was nowhere near done. He'd have to finish it at home.

  
“See you next week.” He mumbled, tossing his still dirty paintbrushes into the plastic bag he’d brought with him to bring them home in and grabbing the canvas by the edges to carry it out to his car. Yeah, he’d definitely be back next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Concerns? Find any mistakes I missed? Feel free to let me know in a comment!  
> My tumblr: Gabrielsfeatherybutt.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been feeling a bit off this week, so please let me know if there are any lingering mistakes left in this chapter, since my editing job probably wasn't superb.

The difficult part of having the cutest dog in the world was that, when you realized you needed to break your promise of taking him to the park every week, just one look from that dog could break your heart as well. It wasn’t Gabriel’s fault, he just needed to stay as far away from that community center and the park beside it as he could. The painting he’d made in the class sat in the corner of the studio in his apartment, unfinished. He’d tried, tried a couple of times in fact, but he just couldn’t seem to focus again. The painting definitely wasn’t done, but any time he thought about what he needed to add to it he couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it. Every idea was just… wrong, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what the right fucking choice was. 

 

The next Thursday night came and went, and Gabriel didn’t leave his apartment. At least the cupcakes he baked turned out better than the last week’s cookies. 

 

Even though he was doing his best to avoid it, Gabriel still found his thoughts drifting back to the class. Not going back had been the right decision. Of course it had. The room had smelled faintly of mold, there was obviously water damage somewhere, and it had probably been built with shit tons of cheap asbestos. The chairs were uncomfortable, the materials were cheap, and the woman running the group was so cheerful she probably had something clinically wrong with her.

 

So why the fuck did he want to go back so badly? It didn’t make sense. 

 

He’d continued avoiding Bela’s calls, texting her a quick picture of the painting he’d made in the class just to shut her up and convince her that yes, he had done something. It wasn’t fair, he’d only gone to the damn class because he’d thought it would be funny, and instead of his bitchy agent he’d been the one who’d ended up getting screwed over. 

 

Except… except maybe he’d also been given a second shot at painting again. Maybe getting the chance to paint Sam again would be worth putting up with the rest of the crap that came along with the class.  

 

Sam’s eyes in his painting seemed to follow him around his apartment, silently questioning him. 

 

It took another week, but eventually Gabriel was able to swallow his pride and show up at the community center at five minutes to five, his paintbrushes tucked under his arm. 

 

Edith was overjoyed. 

 

“Mr. Novak!” She called out to him as he slid through the door. “We missed you last week.”

 

“Sorry, I got busy.” Gabriel lied, walking over to an unoccupied chair in the first row. 

 

The chaise was gone this week, and in its place there was a small raised platform. There was a stick next to it, not the same pole that Sam had used two weeks ago to open the skylight. This one looked a bit like a broom handle. 

 

“Well, we’re just glad to have you back.” Edith said brightly, heading to the front of the class. 

 

Gabriel’s eyes scanned the room for a moment. It didn’t seem to smell quite as strongly of mold as he remembered. Or at all, if he was being honest. The same group of people as before were there, chattering away together once again. Well, at least some things were as he had remembered them. 

 

Sam was there already, sitting in a chair at the end of the row that Gabriel was sitting in, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth between a notebook in his lap and what looked like a textbook on the table next to him. He was scribbling furiously in the notebook, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Fuck, how old was this kid? From the looks of it he may have still been in college, which sent a tiny shiver down Gabriel’s spine. Christ, he really was a perverted old bastard. Lusting after some poor kid who was still in college. Hell, he could be ten years younger than him, or more. Gabriel swallowed thickly, setting his paintbrushes out along the edge of his easel again. 

 

“So, uh, Sam, right?” He said, not daring to look away from his easel. 

 

“Huh?” He heard from beside him, Sam’s voice thick and deep, sending a shiver of a different kind down Gabriel’s back. 

 

Gabriel glanced over at Sam, who was looking at him with a slightly bewildered expression on his face. Fucking hell, this kid did  _ not _ get to be both sex on legs and adorable at the same time, it wasn’t fair. 

 

“Oh, nothing, forget it.” Gabriel said quickly, waving his hand dismissively. Fuck, no, Sam was looking at him. He couldn’t handle this.

 

“No, no it’s fine!” Sam insisted with a tentative smile. “I was just getting some coursework done, that’s all”

 

Right, so he was in college. 

 

“College, huh?” Gabriel asked. He’d dug his grave, now he needed to lay in it. No getting away from this conversation now. “What are you studying?”

 

“Law.” Sam replied, holding up his textbook so that Gabriel could read what the cover said. 

 

“ _ Human Rights Law and International Aid _ ” Gabriel read out. “Damn, that’s some pretty heavy stuff. What year are you in?”

 

“Second year of a three year program. But before this I got a Bachelor’s degree in Ethics and Society, Stanford doesn’t have Pre-Law as an option for undergrads.” Sam explained. Well at least that was a little better. The kid had to be over 20 if he had a Bachelor’s degree. 

 

“Stanford, huh? Nice going, that’s a pretty decent school.” Gabriel nodded, trying to be casual. That was it, that was all that needed to happen. The conversation could fizzle out, and Sam could stop looking at him with that stupidly sincere smile and those deep fucking eyes. 

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” Gabriel heard himself say. Well shit, apparently the conversation wasn’t over. Damn horny brain. 

 

“Oh, uh, I’m 24.” Sam shrugged. “I was a bit of a rare case, they let me into the program immediately after I finished my Bachelor’s degree, I didn’t have to take a year off and do anything else.”

 

“Damn.” Gabriel whistled. Alright, 24. That made them... 8 years apart. Which was admittedly pretty bad, but at least it wasn’t 10 years. Still creepy, but… Oh who was he kidding, he was still way too old for Sam to be interested in him. “You must be pretty damn special for them to let you in right away, Sammich.”

 

“Sammich?” Sam repeated, and Gabriel felt his blood run cold. Fuck fuck fuck, had he actually just said that? Jesus Christ, he was done for now. 

 

But then Sam was laughing, a laugh that shook his shoulders, running all the way down to Sam’s stomach.

 

It was the most beautiful damn thing Gabriel had ever seen. 

 

“Sammich, that’s hilarious. I like it.” Sam grinned, gradually calming down. 

 

“Sam, can you come up here? I’d like to get started.” Edith called from the front of the room. 

 

“Oh, yeah, of course!” He called back, standing up. “It was nice talking to you, uh, what was your name?” He asked, looking back at Gabriel.

 

“Gabriel Novak.” Gabriel said quickly. 

 

“Well it was nice talking to you, Gabriel Novak.” Sam nodded, and then Gabriel was being flashed one of Sam’s blinding smiles before Sam turned away and walked up to the front of the room. 

 

“Nice talking to you too.” Gabriel mumbled, a little in shock. Sam liked it. Sam thought he was funny. He’d made Sam laugh. Fuck, maybe he hadn’t completely fucked this up after all. 

 

Gabriel allowed a smile to spread over his face as he turned his attention to Edith.

 

“Attention! Attention, can I get attention up at the front please?” Edith called out to the group, gesturing towards herself as though the class was a group of kindergarteners that she wanted to come sit at her feet. “So today we’re going to get Sam to pose again, and I’d like this to be an exercise on using your creativity! So look at the pose that Sam is doing, and try and think of what else this pose could be! Art is about looking with your heart as well as your eyes, let yourself soar!” 

 

Alright, no, Gabriel had officially had enough of that. Gabriel would never understand why people felt the need to go on tangents about shit like this, it just came off as stupid. 

 

Besides, he had something else to focus on for now; Sam was starting to get into a pose. His clothes seemed to be staying on this time, which, if Gabriel was being honest, was probably for the best. At least this way he could actually focus on making some art rather than how drop dead gorgeous Sam was. Sam knelt down on one knee on the platform, grabbing the broom handle that Gabriel had noticed before. He laid it horizontally across his knee, placing his hands on either end of it. 

 

Huh, alright, interesting. He could work with this. Edith looked like she was still talking, but she was probably going over colour theory or anatomy or some other basic shit that Gabriel had been working with for years. Instead he kept his attention on Sam, letting his mind go free. 

 

The kneeling was nice, there was lots that he could do with that. What was really going to dictate this was what he turned the broom handle into. The light was falling on Sam’s hair so beautifully today… Maybe it would look better in front of his face. Yes, yeah, what if Sam’s head was bowed? He could have the perspective of the field of view of the painting come from slightly below, so that you could still see his expression, could get the emotion there. And if Sam’s head was bowed he’d need to get some contrast in there… Fuck, he had it! The broom handle was a sword, Sam was holding it up above his head like a warrior offering his sword to his king in order to be knighted. Except this wasn’t an honour, Sam was offering the king his sword to kill him with. Maybe Sam had betrayed him, or maybe he just trusted the king so much that he figured if the king wanted to kill him there had to be a good reason. Yeah, that worked. He had his spark. 

 

Gabriel had brought his own paints with him this time, not wanting to sacrifice on quality. He chose his colours, setting up everything he needed… and then got to work. 

 

He felt less frenzied this time, like he was actually in control of himself. Lots of it was still automatic, sure, but he was actually able to make a couple of artistic choices about where he wanted to go with this. He knew he didn’t have a lot of time, this class was only a couple of hours long, so he didn’t waste any energy or time trying to be too precise, it was more of a speedpaint, just trying to get everything down on the canvas. If he really needed to he could go back and fix details, but as the painting progressed he found more and more that he was appreciating the beauty in its imperfection far more than he could have ever guessed. The painting was rough and choppy, but it was  _ raw _ and  _ vibrant _ and full of life and emotion, and he loved it.

 

He managed to finish it this time, not the first in the class to put down his paintbrush, but not the last either. He gave his painting a final once over, giving it a small nod of approval before heading to the sink in the back to wash out his brushes. 

 

He’d always found it somewhat therapeutic to wash paintbrushes, something about seeing the coloured water swirl down the drain made him feel like he was a part of something. People had always painted, and they probably always would. 

 

When he got back to his station Edith was standing there already, looking at his painting with an expression that Gabriel couldn’t quite place. 

 

“Is everything alright?” He asked her cautiously, reaching past her to grab his brush bag. 

 

She jumped as though Gabriel had just tazed her. 

 

“Oh! Mr. Novak!” She said, spinning around to face him with her trademark smile back in place. “Yes, everything is wonderful. I was just admiring your piece here.” She explained, gesturing towards his painting. 

 

“Thanks Edith, I think I like this one myself.” Gabriel admitted with a shrug, beginning to pack up his paints. 

 

“I’m very glad you decided to come back this week, dear.” Edith said, patting him on the shoulder in a motherly sort of way. “You’re a wonderful addition to the class.”

 

“Me?” Gabriel scoffed, rising an eyebrow at her in disbelief. “I don’t even talk to anyone, and you have to have noticed that I’m, uh, not always the most  _ attentive _ person here…” 

 

“Pshhh.” She said with a dismissive wave. “That’s not the important part. I can tell that you get a lot out of coming here, whatever your reasons may be.”

 

“Right.” Gabriel said, hoping that his skepticism didn’t show on his face. Even though she was a little silly Edith did seem like a genuinely nice person, she didn’t need to know that Sam was the only reason he came here. The other students probably got a fair bit out of her teaching. 

 

“Well, I think it’s time for me to start wrapping things up. Glad we had this chance to chat, Mr. Novak.” She said with a polite smile, giving him one final pat on the shoulder before waddling off to talk to the other students. 

 

Gabriel watched her go, shaking his head incredulously. She was certainly a character, that woman. He gave Sam one final glance. He really shouldn’t have skipped out last week, something about this kid clearly helped him paint. He wasn’t giving that up now, not if he could help it. He wouldn’t sell what he painted today, no. This one was his. Bela could wait a little longer. 

 

Gabriel chuckled to himself as he went back to packing up. Sammich. God, what had he been thinking? But hell, if Sam liked it then maybe it wasn’t so dorky after all. Fucking hell, next Thursday couldn’t come fast enough. Maybe he’d be able to ask Sam more about his studies, the kid clearly had a heart if he was looking at human rights law, and he obviously had a head on his shoulders. Christ, Gabriel really was a goner wasn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Concerns? Find any mistakes I missed? Just want to keyboard-smash at me? Feel free to let me know in a comment!  
> My tumblr: Gabrielsfeatherybutt.tumblr.com  
> My lovely Beta: Why-Not-Sabriel.tumblr.com


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